


Toys For Boys

by LateralFlexor



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Consensual Sex, Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Using Someone As A Sex Toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateralFlexor/pseuds/LateralFlexor
Summary: In the absence of sex toys available since Cybertron’s demise, Megatron and Starscream have devised a friendly arrangement to release tension.





	Toys For Boys

                “Now?”

                “Yes now, are you busy? Soundwave informed me you were cleared the rest of the night.”

                Megatron stood from his throne, “I am not busy.” He looked over his second and then swept his optics around the room for show, “ _Clearly_.” It wasn’t as if he wished to be; he looked forward to these times of absent chaos. Stepping down from the stage-like set up of his seating area, the warlord stood beside his general, frame facing the exit. “How long have you been waiting, Starscream?”

                “Until the end of the shift. I _can_ be professional you know.” Megatron tilted his helm as if weighed far too much, scrutinizing his second. “My liege,” Starscream threw in.

                He wouldn’t have despised it if- like the first time- Starscream had felt it necessary to snag him by the cannon and guide him as if he hadn’t modified the _Nemesis_ to his own specifications. But the seeker maintained a healthy distance, though close enough to not appear afraid as they strolled to one of two destinations.

                “Whose quarters?”

                “Well, we utilized yours last time. I suppose it would be my turn.”

                Starscream glanced at his surroundings. Typical paranoid mech. “Your place then.”

                His master sidestepped, arm opening to indicate the right corridor. Without customary or even tired teasing, Megatron said, “After you.”

                The seeker slid his servo over the curvature of his leader’s forearm- the one sans cannon- as he passed it by, the touch mild. Bursts of illumination from a handful of functional bulbs lit the hallway in solemn patches, but the smaller flier continued his pace, unbothered by the secretive dark.

                The light rolling over his lithe frame would have been alluring if Megatron hadn’t been so preoccupied filing a note to the utility crew for the bulbs’ repairs.

_________________________

                Starscream embedded his back into the pillows, winged frame constructing some semblance of support. His wings went lifeless as he relinquished his weight onto them, not that he’d need them to put on a song and dance for his company anyway. It certainly wasn’t what he did alone.

                Megatron sat a moment later, awaiting at the feet of the seeker’s crooked pedes. His optics lingered on the lower abdomen of the seeker as the flier anticipatorily breathed. Starscream burrowed his frame deeper: an action meant to postpone that Megatron had thus far never snapped at. Some time was never truly precious.

                Once comfortably nested, Starscream situated himself upright, frame sliding through the sheets like a snake in grass as he unceremoniously opened his pedes. Paying Megatron no mind, and certainly no optical-contact, he rubbed a full servo over his codpiece. Wordlessly, he forced his spinal strut to relax.

                Megatron’s spark always ticked off beat when Starscream dove in so quickly. One minute, things could be characteristically familiar- warmly sterile and intemerate- and the next a mockup of quick-fevered romance. Visually, it was difficult to register, even after the years of participation and even the occasions of Megatron’s own planning. He sat dumbly as Starscream worked himself over.

                Soon Starscream’s pelvis dipped down, interface panel sliding back in a desperation of its own accord, and without decreasing his pace the seeker was already yearning to slide in his digits.

                Unnerved by the speed, Megatron leaned a micrometer forward but held his tongue. He wasn’t allowed to guide another here, no matter how close the seeker appeared to be rushing the exchange. That was entirely up to him.

                Unperturbed, Starscream’s fingers attempted their first insertion only to withdraw and instead rim the slight gloss of his valve. His brows knitted in a way that Megatron recognized as the frustration and pressure he was pinning on himself to perform, even if it wasn’t for him but _with_ him.  The urge to raise a servo and get the restless one on the aerial to be patient was alarmingly prominent within him. Megatron acted on no such thing.

                Optics found him as Megatron too began to draw his brows together. Starscream looked unto him for assistance. Taking his cue, the warmech crept an inch closer, arms supporting him on either side of Starscream’s slender waist. Encouraged by the looming presence- a play-pretend of a partner in waiting- the seeker flexed his valve around the points of his digits. Digits pressing in per his body’s wishes, lubricant finally dribbled out from around the edges of them. Megatron sighed in the back of his throat, pleased to see the fluid in a light other than sexual.

                His commander made a gasp. Backing off, Megatron watched, optics still as the seeker had two digits buried to the second knuckle and thrusting determinedly. The seeker’s midsection flexed as he squeezed around himself, hips tilting one side to the other in efforts to claim new sensations. Megatron knew from experience it wouldn’t give him all he craved, but it was no bother to him. Not necessarily.

                The scissoring began shortly thereafter if not simultaneously. The air captain spread his digits, drawing them far apart and holding himself open. Self consciously he drew in, facial plates less emotive as he made a face akin to pouting, concentrated only on being ready. Megatron rested on one of his hands, looking appraisingly at his worrisome second. He’d speak against the apprehension if Starscream would have let him.

                Small stirrings naturally occurred in his own frame. Another mech beside him servicing made Megatron feel perplexed. No matter how used to the ritual he was, his spike always thought it something new. If Starscream wanted to know if it made his senior officer feel aroused, he’d tell him, if only to boost his confidence enough to loosen some rules.

                Megatron caught his fantasy and knocked it away. He readjusted on his aft, retreating for stability until Starscream mewled again, that sound he made often as if Megatron weren’t there.

                Starscream’s fingers withdrew, sparkling with his interestingly thinner fluids. Megatron did not feign to appear distracted as Starscream went back to his valve, optics meeting his leader’s face for but a moment. His claws rubbed the small opening, the flexible metal rim constricting when he came too close. He squirmed under his own ministrations as if he weren’t capable of stopping, continuing to enter and stretch to save time later.

                Checking his internal chronometer, Megatron realized only minutes had passed. Starscream was impressively far along this coming obstacle course of the night. The trepidation and barking of orders would come soon seeing as they hadn’t already, and Megatron already felt the seeds of his obedience flourishing.

                “Help me,” Starscream mumbled.

                Megatron refrained from displaying any eagerness and opted a slow approach to the valve, a single digit pushing inside. The seeker yanked his own out and ground upwards dizzyingly fast. Brows still knitted, Starscream’s valve again closed on Megatron’s digit, blissfully content it wasn’t Starscream’s own.

                “More,” he said flatly, breath on the brink of a hitch.

                Sitting up, the brawny flier began to rub Starscream’s inner thigh, thumb catching on the interlocking plates as he absently contributed nothing. Megatron’s digit, surrounded by the warmth of his subordinate gave way to too little stimulation, Starscream found. The shape of his finger wasn’t conducive to pleasure: the base round like his toys back home but the tip painful. It was his least favorite design. “Out, out,” came his staticky command.

                Frustration burning anew, he pushed Megatron’s invading anatomy out, his conditioned fingers returning to stretch him and thrust a few more times. Starscream’s left servo came out of the corner of Megatron’s unfazed gaze, stroking over his darkly lit node. The warframe felt his wetted valve clench in empathy. The nanosecond Starscream’s optics flitted, Megatron stole a glance below. It was no puddle, but he’d ogle it nonetheless.

                 Knees drawing in, Starscream suddenly whisked his digits out. His hips raised as he nudged his clitoral node once more, the joints straining to keep from bucking off the berth.

                “B-back in, I need more.”

                Megatron filled Starscream, a second digit trying to fit inside. Starscream masked his discomfort by fingering the small bump above his valve, intakes accelerated to an extent Megatron was accustomed to hearing. The nudge of his spike hitting his interior array made Megatron unable to focus after that.

                “Starscream, may I-”

                The mech cut him off with amiable impatience, “Yes yes, open already. I’ll need it in a minute.”

                The relief was like hitting an oasis in a long-wandered patch of the Rust Sea. Megatron kept his servos away from his straining spike, but he couldn’t help but notice Starscream’s eyes had given more than a cursory glance between Megatron’s pedes.

                The faction leader waited no more than thirty seconds before following a new order: “Bring yourself over,” the berth-nestled mech requested. Starscream’s static-laced vocalizer made Megatron’s armor prickle in worn excitement but nothing else happened. He moved himself closer, lifting his pedes onto the berth to get to his knees before the recumbent form. Starscream touched his wrist and he wriggled once again.

                The warlord brought his spike close, just until he could detect Starscream’s emanating heat before cementing himself in place. Writhing down, the seeker shunted his pelvic armor up, valve lips molding to the underside of Megatron’s erection. He moved into it, the slickness of his valve staining his master in a way he’d done countlessly before. Light blue fluid slavered from Starscream’s smooth entrance in a way Megatron couldn’t stop himself from gawking at; his frame burned with system overrides as he fought to stay still.

                Starscream altered the V-shape of his open pedes numerous times as he thrust, valve gliding on his “false phallus.” The pressure of his legs nearly closing made the sight of his silvery opening pressing to his master’s appendage look as good as it felt. Megatron liked it best when he could feel the whole thing at once, but he was unsure of divulging his attachment for more surface contact. Among other things.

                Purring deep within, Starscream groaned. Megatron pushed gingerly towards the sound. For once the seeker hadn’t put up a feisty glare at the overstep and Megatron was grateful. His spike pushed out a glittery bead of fluid at all the fuss; Starscream- timing impeccable- slid himself from base to tip, their fluid mingling.

                A compliment was squeezed from Megatron was he watched the seeker roll his hips, optics focused on more than his ‘toy:’ “I hope you are enjoying yourself as thoroughly as you appear to be.”

                The seeker let out a single, hard pant, “I a-am.” His valve fluttered around the mid of the lord’s spike. “B-but what did I say about talking.”

                Megatron accepted the admonishment in stride. Face serious as stone, he commented, “You are far too lovely to look away from.” Normally things so risky were said with a featherlight touch or comforting embrace, but he’d already broken the rules two or three times. This was enough to get some bubbling energy out from him.

                Starscream stifled his actions. Megatron watched as he resumed masturbating, optics following the seeker’s hesitant grinding. The leader himself was overcome with a wave to self-service too, but on his own time later that would have to come. Instead he tightened himself up, unwilling to trickle more fluids onto his headstrong underling. Real toys didn’t have that.

                The seeker squirmed contentedly until he tensed once again. Tentatively he grasped the spike, ignoring its owner as he led it to where he pleased.

                The head of his spike connected with the plushness of his soaked opening. Intakes halted, Starscream pulled it into him, valve objecting. Megatron felt the spiraling of internalized mechanisms working to let him in. Only a fraction of his shaft was enveloped, the outer plating somewhat dry already and working against them both.

                Grunting, the steadfast seeker narrowed his line of sight, his diminished field angry. He forced himself to relax, to pull Megatron into himself on his own accord, but his valve wouldn’t listen. Megatron looked over him, towering above in a plain, neutral way. He’d suggest it looked too domineering, but Starscream would be too quick to bark that it was his own fault for laying so helpless-like. And it was not.

                His seeker wriggled a great deal, each time slightly fiercer than the last until Starscream laid there, knees to his chest as his wings pressed into the berth, valve stuffed with but a fraction of his master’s spike. Megatron thought he looked a picture, like the mechs and femmes he'd seen in the holovids scattered around the pits eons ago. The prince would never admit to looking as such, and Megatron knew him too well to be one of those anyhow. When Starscream did things, they were his own.

                Megatron kept his eyes off Starscream the next chunk of time, often searching the public comm feeds for any distracting news. So far, nothing kept his attention, but what did was Starscream stopping. He scooted backwards, pedes flinging over. “This is the part where I move to the floor,” he said speedily, almost intellectually.

                Megatron had a ping of onset knowledge inside his processor that this hasty attitude could be reserved for Starscream himself and not when rendezvousing with others. That perhaps Starscream coerced himself to self-interface and end it quickly before it became a drawn-out ordeal. It made Megatron feel quizzically inclined, but to do what he hadn’t a clue. How Starscream could separate company from other company when his physical charge was so weighty was imposing.

                Megatron felt… impressed.

                Starscream’s backside was the first thing he noticed as he left behind the train of thought. The seeker stood, minimal mess on his prim aft as he looked to the floor for a suitable spot. He’d long since learned not to expect even a pathetic replacement for a Vosnian rug, but Megatron could have at least thrown down a few warming tarps or even a mat. Starscream gifted him a tiny sneer, but clearly Megatron had no idea what it was for as he stood and waited for the seeker to take point.

                In a moment of inward emotional duress, the seeker piped up, “This won’t be comfortable, you know.”

                Megatron took a few steps and got to his knees, shins flush to the floor- as discomforting as promised. He defended himself as the seeker stared, “I hadn’t the time to prepare for you. Perhaps you can bring one of yours and store it here for such purposes in the future.”

                Without answering, Starscream sat too, careful to keep his kneeguards from stabbing his partner. It was sound reasoning, though he didn’t recognize it verbally.

                Spike bared and bothered by the cool air away from the berth, the warbuild kept his line of sight away from the seeker. Having the littler flier so close made him too aware of the situation, of permitting one to fondle him as if he were inanimate. But he’d made a solid promise to keep things professional, and Starscream had done an adequate job of not faltering. He’d feel more a fool to bring it up than quash the sudden need.

                Unless the need was to be dominant. Then it’d prove a more challenging foe.

                The seeds of obedience and civility bloomed fully, and suddenly Megatron couldn’t help but feel dizzied by what his SIC did in his free time, of him always having access. Or even giving it to others. The littler one had an air of superiority that never escaped others, no matter if he was acting on it or not, but egotism wouldn’t keep even the weakest out the Decepticon warmonger knew. Megatron appreciated some ego when warranted. A seeker that could make other seekers bow to him or her was just the sort of gasp of ‘ _unbelievable’_ that people gave him when they’d seen him on the streets in his revolutionary roots.

                Clawed digits were trapping him, rattling his processing pattern. “Try not to move too much. I will only do this briefly.” The servos vacated Megatron’s hips quickly.

                On his own knees, Starscream lifted his hips- plenty higher, he bitterly thought- than Megatron ever would have to, and ground his valve over the member. Megatron went stiffer than a rod, spinal struts locking as his air commander grabbed for purchase at his lower chest, hoisting himself for purer access. The head of the spike pressed between the jet’s silky mesh, pushing the soft lips of his valve apart as he slid forward.

                The drag backwards had Megatron light-headed. A few more cursory rubs and his spike forced out more fluid. Starscream didn’t seem irritated at the extra lubricant smeared to him, and for that Megatron was grateful.

                “O-ok. Now we proceed,” came an unclear murmur from Megatron’s torso.

                The plating in the warframe’s back unsettled one by one, popping from their preset as he tried to keep himself steady. He eyed the seeker as he laid back onto his aft again, pedes slack and processor blank.

                The seeker climbed atop him in a less hurried fashion, wings clattering loosely without a hint of seeker-chatter behind him. Once straddling Lord Megatron, he attempted to continue his real goal. His valve sank onto the tip of the spike, arms quivering as he pushed at his leader’s chest for balance. A thick glob of lubricant had him shivering while it slithered out, Megatron unmoving as his optics fixated on it traveling down his shaft. His servos shot up once he saw the seeker slumping.

                He couldn’t handle much more, ego aside. “It’s been quite some time since our last session, Starscream. It’s not as though you can acquire much practice in between.”

                Starscream rolled his hips in the tight grasp. The warm grasp. “I will be fine. I know how to pace myself.”

                Megatron’s skeptical expression snapped away the moment the seeker even glanced in his direction. Starscream’s spreading legs tensed his lower body to the point he reset, scooting his knees together to try all over again. He stood a tad higher that way, but he didn’t use it to any real advantage. Instead he squinted at the hands on his sides.

                “I wouldn’t normally have those, so I shouldn’t now.”

                His leader kept his helm level, optics peering up at him. Starscream noticed his expression, a look of battlefield calculation. He took hold of them himself and lowered them. Megatron could put them wherever else, but not on him. It wouldn’t be fair.

                The commander writhed. Undignified though he’d think it later, there were too few movements left. Too few ways to hide. Megatron’s palms were flat on the floor, watching with some sort of interest that Starscream couldn’t decipher. He focused back on himself, looking down as he attempted another go at pushing the spike in. The wetted tip kissed at his valve, his fingers flocking to it to hold the member in place. He felt the pulsating of energon underneath the arcs of his digits.

                Megatron was no lifeless tool.

                The large mech opened his mouth to ventilate when he felt the top of his spike enter a new heat. Flowing with gravity, his seeker began his little decent, legs parting in a slow fashion. The fluttering valve stilled as it was filled, tensing over the rigid spike.

                Wet softness was more caring than he’d remembered, certainly better than a modified lining. No barbs or textured frills inside had Megatron flung into a new state of mind. His second was far too genuine. And more yet when a semi-concealed sound escaped him.

                The tight space narrowed harshly, calipers wound like steel wire. Megatron grit his teeth as the warmth suffocated half of his member.

                “Did you ever own a toy this size?" Megatron asked with true interest.

                "Bigger," Starscream answered as if on a hair trigger to prove himself. Megatron took the clever barb at face value; it wasn't as though he didn't believe him, but the truth could go either way.

                Megatron’s mitts went back to the seeker naturally again. His foredigits stroked at his knees and part of his thighs as his palms rested at the crook of his knee. Starscream only made a face at the initial cold.

                Shifting his hips to stretch his lower back, Megatron felt the seeker slip down on him again.

                “A-ah, stop, stop, what are you doing?”

                Subconsciously the warbuild held his partner tighter by the legs. “Readjusting,” he answered honestly, vocalizer airily gruff.

                Starscream glared mildly, the seeker shivering off his bad mood as he looked over his position. Megatron had pushed inside more. A twinge low in his tank made him shy and brash in the same flicker of time, his right claws leaving the comfort of Megatron’s chest to roll at his clit.

                The room filled with noise. Megatron couldn’t register them fast enough until his spike twitched knowingly. Starscream was moaning, breathing from between parted lips as his valve held onto Megatron’s eager spike.

                Megatron felt himself push against a much narrower channel and Starscream egged him to go deeper, optics threatening to roll back as he instructed him to push through the resistance. Wary, Megatron gently eased upwards and Starscream forcefully relaxed his contracting walls. Megatron felt himself slide through the channel and the tip of his spike felt freer, realizing he’d sprung through the constricted mesh into a slightly roomier opening. The straining base of the valve cut into the lower part of his spike only now.

                Body curling up, Megatron’s abdominal plates flexed together to sustain his own weight. He had to watch over the littler partner; Starscream’s desperation pushed him to do many things heedlessly both in battle and the bedroom, Megatron had noticed. Starscream wouldn’t appreciate him remembering every occasion it had gone south, jotting it down internally to use. But perhaps he’d care to know the knowledge wasn’t used to usurp.

                It was hard to keep thinking. Starscream’s panting was nailing his master’s processor to the wills of his spike, baiting him to flick his hips up for both their enjoyment. The warlord grasped the seeker’s twitching waist and lifted his hips just so. Just enough to get the seeker to draw himself down. Minute contractions flittering on and off could be felt around his spike as he used it strictly to widen his second. Starscream was euphorically receptive, uneager to use his wavering energy to breathe rules and reprimand.

                The friction dulled. Bright fluid caught Megatron’s attention, even more so than the flier’s claws clenching his chestplating. Droplets were squeezed from Starscream’s slick valve, collecting around the large jet’s spike. However long they’d been in here together, surely more than half was spent eyeing the blue lubricant with abandon. Megatron was mesmerized beyond control.

                “I am- nnh- wonderfully surprised you don’t need synthetic lube, seeker,” Megatron said proudly, teeth glinting from behind smiling lips. “You never cease to thrill me.”

                Wings pinching together, Starscream’s optics shut, helm cast down. That was too personal, but the thrill… yes, he agreed. Megatron’s praise was precious, even when he knew he could have more of it in private.

                Megatron caught Starscream’s trepidation, even as he concentrated on raising the tinier frame to give his valve breathing room, so to speak. Saying such a simple if not _filthy_ line granted him succulent access to Starscream’s sexual feelings, and he found his spark skip again. It made him feel very present in Starscream’s pleasure, in a line of his subordinate’s desire that wasn’t geared towards antagonistic and otherwise discommodious behavior towards his master.

                Seeking overload was a tumultuous activity when Megatron started talking. He’d done so well these years being patient, accepting being groomed by Starscream to be the ultimate phallus: quiet, warm, always where he needed it. Megatron was undoing far too much in one night, but the hammering in his spark was wrenching control from between his servos. If his agenda was going to bend, his only wish was to keep any of it inside the room.

                That was impossible when Megatron put his servos over Starscream’s on his chest.

                Red optics flashed to his playmate, catching sight of the warmaster’s conflicted expression. Over what, Starscream couldn’t muster the processor power to figure, but Megatron’s grip tightened considerably at it. The heaving of his rounded chestplate was cause for something more than concern for health.

                Starscream felt wetness kissing up his thighs. Again he looked, this time to see Megatron had been thrusting into him for a good minute. His valve gave under the spike’s retreat, more fluids exiting his well-prepared opening in a way he was sure wouldn’t have Megatron fighting to twist and turn in such a way. Hotness radiated inside when Megatron, an authoritative mech with his helm thrown back as if he were the one being spiked, pushed back inside. More than once. For more than to stretch.

                The flightframe mewled, hopefully concealed by Megatron’s sudden exhale of power and pleasure. Their optics met for a split second, right before Megatron undulated deeper and more swiftly.

                Their servos caught on each other’s, fumbling to an intimate handhold though Starscream needed it to support his body. That’s what he believed.

                Words and sentences whirled in Megatron’s mind, worry flying to and fro if he should act. Starscream gripped him like a snake, pedes spread in a wide upside-down V to accommodate his leader. The pit fighter’s processor swelled with phrases that would normally upset his seeker, but he found himself clearing his vocalizer, booting out the mean grit and static. He didn’t want to sound spiteful, to sound demeaning and rage-filled as he knew words alone could. A change of tone met a change of spark.

                His smile was gone, brows angled down as he held Starscream’s hands, bringing one to his mouth as he murmured, “Do you like your master’s spike in you?”

                Starscream didn’t complain, his own optical ridges fighting to betray any identifiable emotion. His valve squeezed Megatron’s member needily.

                Involuntarily.

                Panting quieter, Starscream’s claws balled on the gray chest under him.

                Megatron’s pace increased a fraction. Once he cracked the dam of self-control, letting lustfully charged words tumble out was unstoppable. “Are you so aroused by my thick spike you cannot move or speak?” A squeak left the seeker, his helm turning away as Megatron bent him to get their faces much closer. “It is alright. You arouse me too,” he said softly. Megatron’s chest seized harshly at the admission, spike straining for more friction as he struggled to keep his voice gentle. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as he presumed.

                If Starscream was comfortable being sincere with his partner, he would be too. His reassurance came when Starscream looked up at him, fists opening to knead his leader’s armor.

                When Megatron couldn’t take his optics off his, Starscream spoke, “Talk to me.”

                Thrusting further into Starscream’s wet valve, holding him by the servos to keep his hips free, Megatron let loose a groan. Jumbled words of ecstasy and harmless instigation poured forth. “I always look forward to our sessions, Starscream.”

                It was a safe phrase, one that didn’t own up to pure feelings but instead reminded Starscream of when he quietly got Megatron off when it was his turn.

                “We b-both have needs, you know,” Starscream succumbed, voice soft and distant. He sat up from the front of his master, hips rolling in smaller sweeps. His lesser weight doubled atop Megatron.

                Humming, his leader slowed his pace, servos slipping from Starscream’s to touch at his durable neck. A large fist of claws opened to hold it. Megatron’s scarred lips parted. Starscream watched him with a look that suggested he’d go quiet the rest of the night if he was truly asking for permission to do something strictly for one of Starscream’s real berthmates. The bigger mech was overcome with want to fill the silence with vulgarity, to strikes a chord among each and every kink until Starscream finished what he’d set out to do.

                It was Megatron who was supposed to earn his overload if ever permitted.

                “You’re so wet for me, Starscream.”

                The seeker lurched into Megatron’s grasp, chin lifting as his valve clenched in that same desperate manner as his neck was enveloped.

                Megatron renewed his thrusting with determination to please him- even please them both. Hoarsely he murmured, “Fuck yourself on me, Starscream. I want it.”

                The seeker yelped as he pushed against Megatron’s hips, his own chasing them when they went back to the floor for more leverage. He released the tight cabling and mesh inside him, Megatron’s spike now pushing at the back of his channel to see him full. Nothing hurt anymore.

                “A-ah, M-Megatron,” he mewled, comforted by the firm hand around his throat. He felt a rush of lubricant and fought to see it, to inspect himself more for error or reactivity, but Megatron knew what to do to help him along.

                “Do you think about me cumming in you? About my spike stuffing you as you rub your helpless node?”

                The uncreative nature of his questions were treasures in their own way; Starscream’s wings stuck straight from his back, affected by his own power to have Megatron entirely undone. “Y-yes.”

                “Nn, do you want me to overload in you?”

                “Y-yeah.”

                Megatron’s processor shorted out, unable to do anything that wasn’t autonomic as he thrust quick and sharp into the velvety heat. He couldn’t remember the last thing he said.

                “Frag, Starscream, please overload.”

                Pleading suited Megatron. Starscream’s servo reached down to spread his opening, liking the burn and vulnerability in the safety of the situation. This was the first time he’d abused it as far as now. All he could manage were loving cries.

                “Primus, yes, Starscream,” Megatron panted, his frame raising from the floor to reach deep as he could. “How I would love to give you a real toy,” he said, biting his derma.

                An image infected the seeker, of using one of his old silicone playthings in the shower. On the floor of his habsuite. In the command deck’s storage room.

                And Megatron being there for all of it.

                A crackled whine made its way to his seeker’s audials. It felt good to whine. “St-Starscream, I-I’m-”

                Fiercely, the seeker stared down to him, claws nearly puncturing his thick body. “Give it to me, frag me good.”

                He dropped his hand from the seeker’s throat, instead holding him by the aft. “Primus, Starscream! Please!” He hadn’t known it would come out as a shout, but Starscream didn’t mind as he himself shrieked, valve tightening while he teetered over the high cliff of one of the longest orgasms he’d ever had. His spike panel shifted, unbearably hot liquid hitting Starscream’s middle.

                Megatron twisted his hips for the last thread of texture in Starscream’s tight valve. The seeker rode him well for being held in an iron grip, his body chasing any and all sensation. Megatron clenched his denta, gripping his second as he moaned near pornographic language he was sure to regret in five minutes tops. All Starscream could hear was how badly Megatron enjoyed fragging him.

                “So good, _so good_ nngh.” Megatron palmed down the seeker, his lover letting his wings flap and his frame finish thrashing on its own as he pumped the dregs of his transfluid into his berthmate. The seeker slumped forward to collect himself, frame moving like a wave as Megatron continued to chase the latter flickering and sparks of overload.

                Starscream started to slide. Megatron- though equally disoriented- snatched him. The seeker’s breathing was severely uneven. His master finally lifted his heavy helm from the floor and saw the other: optics hazy and wet from tears of immense pleasure.

                Megatron held him as he sat up, frame not yet calculating his sluggish impulses. He opened his subspace and produced a cloth. Starscream wormed for some space to do the same, still perched on his leader as he wiped himself down.

                Minutes devoid of speech passed them fluidly and in an instant the seeker stood. Megatron marveled at his ability to do so, even with him wobbling. Starscream gave himself a once-over before taking a step. Megatron was on his feet the moment he appeared ready to drop.

                Feet wide and planted, the large mech set the other on his berth close to the curved headboard. However weak Starscream thought himself to be, Megatron may never have the chance to explain in all the ways he didn’t mind. While many forgot the discrepancies of size differing mates, Megatron never could. It was more obvious than any of his air captain’s other features.

                “Rest here,” Megatron reminded. Starscream didn’t enjoy wandering but his processor never settled properly after interface. Always ready to fly off at the first sign the illusion was fading.

                Bizarrely his master’s faceplate lingered by him. Optics heavy, Starscream closed them sacrificially.

                Megatron slid his glossa over the back of his denta, a contrasting urge coming on to put his mouth to Starscream’s, or perhaps his faceplate. He’d seen that on videos as well; after sex one typically expressed affection away from their equipment to ensure their partner still existed outside it. It wouldn't have been inappropriate due to rank, but Megatron and he were no couple.

                While they'd never banned kissing like they had using one another's tongues, Megatron wondered if, with Starscream’s permission and mutual interest, they could know each other in more ways than one.

                Megatron fetched their evening energon and hastily gave it to the one who’d need it far more before he’d close his optics for the night. Megatron turned on the smaller of two wall-mounted screens to the broadcast the combat-useless vehicons put on as a compilation of the daily ins and outs.

                Two empty cubes of energon sat on each table, their consumers contentedly positioned much the same in the berth with little space between them. Megatron’s room hasn't been customized for guests but Starscream insisted it hadn't mattered. Being in a place he wasn't specifically housed in made the commander feel free if not salacious. He made himself at home, frame lax in the cool, half-made berth.

                Now uncomfortable with words, Megatron pulled a warming tarp over Starscream’s curled form. He too was watching the screen with subdued interest, face alight with the moving personnel.

                Sending him back wasn’t prudent. Any nocturnal or wandering staff weren’t going to be given time to gawk Starscream’s unstable frame as he meandered to his suite. He wasn’t fit, and it wasn’t polite. That, and how disgustingly enraptured by gossip his crew was. Starscream needed to take it easy after a more rigorous session.

                The bigger jet turned his helm to see his commander, expressive face sedated into something neutral by the exuberant overload.

                Having Starscream there gave him the illusion his affairs were in order, the last loyal ducks finally coming into their respective rows. Starscream himself was not a toy to him, nor did he see his valve or spike as such luxuries. Megatron couldn't get his second to bend backwards for every whim he went alone in feeling, but his spike wasn't the tool for demeaning the younger seeker or to wipe away his different opinions. Starscream’s upbringing had squared him up to be something Megatron despised, but the seeker still found a way to side against those ideals in the end. The nobles certainly weren't laughing in their graves about the irony in that.

                He didn't move his optics off his general, idly watching the vehicons scramble to segway to the next informational visual. Megatron leaned closer, mouth moving to say something leader-like, and instead touched the lightly pitted knuckles of the seeker’s hand. Megatron turned his broad form to the other’s, optics offlining to escape the brilliant light of the holovid for sleep, disconnected without prejudice from whatever Starscream’s desires were the rest of the night.

                Thirty seconds later, the light abruptly snapped off and the seeker laid down, the dim illumination of his eyes flickering before he too gave in to recharge.


End file.
